


Ticking Boxes

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7274602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe all Cas and Dean need is a little nudge... and a good ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticking Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> Because Sam ships it.
> 
> Because Destiel isn't about taking anything away from the show; we'd just like to see these well-loved characters have something happy in their lives.
> 
> Just because :)

**Dean**

 

“You don’t get it, Sam,” Dean huffed out in frustration, causing Sam to roll his eyes yet again, and to stare out of the window as he tried to find the exact words he wanted to say back to him.

 

There had been many an argument between the two of them in the front seat of the Impala. It was their safe haven, where no subject was off topic, no matter how difficult it was to get the words out.

 

It was home to make ups, talk about break ups, brotherly concern and advice. It had been witness to conversations about heartache and heartbreak, loss and first loves. Fears, hopes, even dreams back before hunting took over and dominated everything about their lives.

 

Sometimes even now.

 

“What’s not to get?” Sam retorted, shifting his position and folding his hands even tighter across his chest. “You care about each other. What’s so wrong with that?”

 

The elephant in the room that had been Dean’s feelings for Cas had finally stomped all over, shaking the very foundations of the relatively stable existence between the three of them and firmly sat down, until this conversation really had to be had.

 

It wasn’t so much a pivotal moment, but rather a series of small things that had led to Sam forcing out the words he’d been holding on to about this for what feels like a very long time.

 

“I didn’t… I… nobody said there was anything _wrong_ with it,” Dean barked out, and Sam cheered inwardly at the half-confession Dean had just given. Dean knew it as well, because he winced at himself, and his scowl grew even deeper.

 

“So… what, then?” Sam demanded back, just as angrily.

 

Dean and Cas caring about each other might be an understatement. The glancing touches, the lingering stares, the fear for one another that coiled them tightly like springs, only to uncoil and sag in relief when they knew each other were safe. This was not just caring; this was a lot, lot more, and all three of them knew it even if none of them were brave enough to say anything about it. Until now.

 

“You want me to just tick some little boxes for you, huh, Sam? That what this is about? You want the token gay brother who-”

 

“Pretty sure bisexual’s a better term-”

 

“I am not a term!” Dean yelled, loud enough for someone passing the Impala to look back at them curiously then scuttle away at the anger on Dean’s face.

 

Sam continued watching Dean carefully, hearing the doubts behind Dean’s words. Was Dean really so afraid of that part of who he was, when he was so lacking in discretion in the way he looked at guys sometimes? Did he worry that he was somehow _less_ to Sam if he admitted his attraction to Cas?

 

Sam was pretty sure that wasn’t the problem. Dean was one of the most accepting, non-judgemental people Sam knew, and Sam had always looked to him as an example. No, he told himself, anger and sorrow curling in his gut. Dean was _afraid_. Afraid of wanting - and having - something for himself.

 

“I… okay, you know what, Dean? No. You’re not a _term_ . But neither are you a… I don’t know. Martyr, here, either. Or… or a saint. This isn’t about what _I_ want, it’s about you giving in to something _you_ want. It isn’t about… and what kind of life do you think we’re living here where I’d want or need a token like _that_ ?” Sam shifted, uncomfortable in his fury at what he could only see as Dean’s stupidity in that moment. “It’s… you and me. We fight. We… we’ve _died_ for this life we live, okay? Every day of our lives is another case, another monster, you know? We never _stop_ . So… this isn’t about me wanting a token _anything_ , Dean. It’s about… about you _deserving_ some happiness in the middle of all this shit we go through. That’s it. That’s all I want from this. I don’t _need_ anything else, okay?”

 

Dean pursed his lips together still in anger, although the softening around his eyes told Sam that maybe he was getting through to him.

 

Sam latched onto that, and barrelled forward with the rest of his argument.

 

“It isn’t about… I don’t expect you to go all chick flick on me, all… hearts and flowers and sunsets and stuff. Nothing really needs to change, does it? You, me… _Cas_ …” he stuttered out, the first time Cas’ name had actually been said out loud between the two of them since this argument had started. “Nothing… nobody’s gonna _lose_ who they are in this, Dean. I just… I want you to be happy. And I think Cas makes you happy. And I’m pretty sure you make him happy too. Can’t I just see my brother happy?” he gave as a final plea, turning to Dean and hoping for once that Dean would see the sincerity there instead of mocking it and pushing it away.

 

Silence stretched and warped between them for what felt like an eternity, but eventually Sam saw Dean’s shoulders slump in defeat and his head fall back against the headrest.

 

“I… It’s not that I have a problem with… you know. Being gay… _bisexual_ … whatever. Kinda known that about myself for long enough now, you know? So it’s not that… if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dean said quietly, his eyes closed, knowing Sam’s would be firmly on his face whatever he did or said.

 

“I wondered,” Sam admitted, and Dean let out a soft sigh to hear that, shaking his head.

 

“Always figured you’d be okay with it either way, you know? So… that’s never bothered me,” Dean said, opening his eyes a fraction to see Sam’s reassuring smile.

 

“Of course,” Sam told him honestly, and his smile stretched wider as Dean’s hand reached across the seat to pat his arm briefly. “So… what is it? Why won’t you let yourself _have_ this?”

 

Dean let out another long and low sigh that rumbled on until it sounded more like a groan. He sat up again, blinking, shaking his head. “Honestly? I’ve.... I’ve got about a thousand excuses here. Timing… the whole… you know. Different, uh… _species_ thing,” he said, eyes flitting to Sam’s briefly then back out over the dashboard. “That I’m not ready, that he won’t want it, that… that we’re both too messed up for anything to happen that wouldn’t end in disaster. That… that maybe this is for real… maybe… maybe this is… everything…” he stuttered out, eyes now focussed on his fingers in his lap.

 

Ah, Sam realised, everything becoming clear. It wasn’t because Dean didn’t want this. It was because Dean wanted this so very much, that the thought of it not working out or going wrong scared him out of even trying.

 

“You care about each other,” Sam repeated, watching as Dean nodded. “So… how do you know it’s not gonna be all those things… or _isn’t_ … if you don’t at least give it a try?”

 

Dean snorted at himself then, letting his head fall back once more with a heavy sigh. “‘Cos I’m a coward? ‘Cos I don’t know _how_ ? How’s this supposed to work? I take him to some fancy restaurant - if he lets me - and then… what? Taking him stargazing or something? Talk about our _feelings_ ‘til the sun comes up?”

 

“That what you’d do on a date with anyone else?” Sam laughed softly, and then a little harder at the blush on Dean’s cheeks.

 

“A. Don’t mock my game. Used to work every time,” Dean defended, shifting a little in his seat to glare at Sam, although it was half-hearted. “It’s… you know how long it’s been since I took anyone on an actual _date…_ ‘stead of just hooking up with someone at a bar? Hell… I don’t even remember the last time I did _that_ either.”

 

Sam smiled to hear that but wisely didn’t comment. Dean hadn’t been interested in anyone _but_ Cas for so long - not that he’d actually admitted that out loud before now - that Sam could barely remember when Dean disappearing for the night was a regular thing. Which told Sam two things. One, Dean had changed, and in his opinion at least, for the better. And two, Dean had felt this way about Cas now for a long, long time.

 

As Dean squirmed a little under Sam’s expectant gaze, Sam pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh again, and waited for Dean to continue. Dean eyed him suspiciously for a second, then rolled his eyes.

 

“Was there a B?” Sam prompted, when Dean’s words faltered.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Go on,”

 

With another exaggerated sigh and a hand shielding his own eyes, Dean mumbled out, “This. This thing with Cas. That, by the way, has no right being called a _thing_ yet. It’s… _more_ than that, you know? Bigger. More important.”

 

Sam’s smile split wider as he lost his control over containing it. “So… Cas is _important_ to you,” he said, not even attempting to keep the sing song tone from his voice.

 

Dean gave him a withering look, then nodded, a little miserably at himself.

 

“Then… what are you doing sat here with me, instead of being with _him_ and telling him that?”

 

**Cas**

 

“You know, Cas. You could just… try _talking_ to him about this,” Sam tried, and as he expected to happen saw Cas’ gaze quickly shift from where it had been on Dean, to back to him.

 

“I do not understand, Sam,”

 

To Cas’ credit, the way he screwed his face up in confusion and looked so thoroughly lost made Sam realise that perhaps he really _didn’t_ understand. That Cas was decidedly _other_ than human often escaped both his and Dean’s attention because he was so _very_ human a lot of the time. But perhaps this was something he really, genuinely, honestly didn’t get.

 

And honestly, Sam thought to himself, _he_ didn’t understand. It had been two days since his conversation with Dean about Cas, and nothing, not one thing, had happened yet. He hadn’t expected to have to start walking around the bunker with his eyes closed in fear of seeing the two of them doing who knows what together. But neither had he expected _nothing_. If truthful, he was a little disappointed in Dean for not making things happen yet. Or at least trying to, anyway.

 

So Sam sighed, patiently, and tried to put things into words for Cas.

 

“You… feel things. For Dean. Don’t you?” he tried, watching the expression on Cas’ face morph from alarmed, to shy, to cautious, literally in the blink of an eye.

 

“I… feel many things, Sam. They are not-”

 

“I meant,” Sam tried, hastily interrupting him. “That you feel… _feelings_. For Dean.”

 

For another moment Cas’ face was torn between uncertainty about Sam’s meaning, and understanding, and not wanting to admit it.

 

“Cas,” Sam tried again. “When you look at Dean. What is it that you feel? Or think, even?”

 

Both Sam and Cas looked across to where Dean was leaned over the engine of a car, a dark stripe of oil up his arm and his t-shirt rucked up enough to reveal a band of skin across his lower back.

 

Sam saw Cas swallow uncomfortably and held in both a grin and a grimace.

 

“I… I feel I should protect-”

 

“Cas,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Stop. Stop, I get _that_ , okay? I know you feel responsible for him. For us both. But what do you _feel_ . For him… just for _you_?”

 

Cas’ gaze turned slowly back to Dean and he studied him in thought for several moments.

 

“I _feel…_ I feel that I enjoy conversations with Dean very much. And that I would like more of them,” Cas said, hesitantly, glancing at Sam and finding encouragement there in his smile.

 

Sam watched as Cas’ eyes very obviously travelled the length of Dean’s body as he bent over the car; Sam winced to himself, suddenly fearing his prompting here would lead to him hearing things he really did not want to be hearing.

 

“I _feel_ that… I feel that I would like to spend more time with Dean. Alone,”

 

Cas’ face crinkled up at his confession, and he looked back to Sam worriedly. “That does not mean that I do not enjoy your company, Sam. It is just…”

 

“Different?” Sam finished for him, smiling in understanding and seeing a relieved smile back in return from Cas to show he agreed.

 

Cas’ eyes turned once again back to Dean, and his face became more thoughtful. “I feel… _attraction_ ,” he mumbled out, his cheeks suddenly colouring.

 

What amused Sam most in that moment was that Cas was aware that he was blushing, and seemed to be trying to look outside of himself to _see_ it for himself, and was clueless as to how to _stop_ blushing.

 

But, Sam thought to himself, this was, at least, an admission.

 

“I also feel anger,” Cas said then, and Sam’s eyes grew wide, but followed Cas’ narrowed glare back over at Dean.

 

They had stopped for lunch in a diner, and as they had returned to the car, a woman was frustratedly hitting her steering wheel and trying and failing to get her car to start. Dean had instantly offered to help, because Dean was a good guy, Sam smiled to himself then, even if Dean did often doubt that. He was always stopping to help people when he could, and that didn’t even include all the cases they took on that were to save people generally.

 

The woman in question was standing beside Dean and nodding thoughtfully as he showed her something. She leaned in quite close to get a better view, and it was that image that seemed to be causing Cas such annoyance.

 

Sam bit back the laugh but was too late to stop it erupting at least a little bit.

 

“Uh, Cas? I think that anger you’re feeling? It’s called _jealousy_.”

 

Cas looked indignant and contrite all in one moment, his stance confirming Sam’s suspicions as he seemed to shrink into his trench coat.

 

“He doesn’t look interested in her, Cas,” Sam tried to reassure him, and forced himself this time not to laugh as Cas huffed and folded his arms in deeper anger.

 

“Cas. I can’t remember the last time Dean looked at anyone but you,” Sam told him softly then, and watched as that blush crept across Cas’ cheeks once again.

 

“Dean does not… look at me… in that way,” Cas stuttered out, although his words were tainted with doubt, and hope.

 

“Uh, yeah he does, Cas. Same way you look at him.”

 

“Impossible,” Cas argued, his eyes still firmly on the woman as though he was about to smite her out of existence.

 

“Look, Cas. I know my brother. And I’d like to think I know you pretty well too. I… I’ve seen the way you two are together. I… I wish you’d just… you know,” and Sam made a gesture that had Cas’ eyes widen and his mouth gape open.

 

“You… you would… approve?” Cas asked uncertainly, and the look on his face then made Sam want to reach out and hug him.

 

“Are you kidding me? I’d… yes, I _approve_ , Cas. I… you… you’re essentially my brother, Cas. Why wouldn’t I approve?”

 

Cas’ eyes grew more alarmed, and he took a half step back. “If you view me as your brother, Sam, then you cannot approve of… _this_ ,” he stammered out, shaking his head.

 

Sam groaned at himself and looked skywards for inspiration. “I don’t mean _actual_ brother, Cas. Obviously. Because then you’re right - that would be weird given that… you know,” he said, nodding over at Dean and watching Cas’ carefully controlled expression. “But… it’s kinda too soon to be telling you I think of you as my brother-in-law, don’t you think?”

 

It took Cas several seconds to understand Sam’s meaning, and that set him off blushing all over again.

 

Seriously, Sam thought to himself, sighing. This was much harder work than it needed to be.

 

Thankfully though, it appeared Dean was on his way back over to them, and Sam’s failing attempts at trying to reason with Cas were about to be over. The woman had started her car and grinned out at Dean through the open window, thanking him loudly before turning the car around and leaving the parking lot without another look back. Dean was walking back towards them and if he didn’t know any better, Sam would swear that Cas was swallowing uncomfortably as though he was about to blurt out something he didn’t know whether or not he should say.

 

Dean beat him to it though.

 

The smile Dean gave Cas then just reiterated everything Sam had been thinking about the two of them - and telling them both seperately. Two platonic friends would not look at each other with that much affection and that much _want_ , and barely be able to tear their eyes away from one another. Friends just didn’t _do_ that.

 

“So,” Dean said suddenly, and Sam held his breath, praying silently that Dean was finally about to do something about the obstacle that was he and Cas. “Thought maybe since we’re so far from the bunker we might as well stay in a motel tonight. What do you think?”

 

Dean’s question was directed at Cas, which was symbolic enough, since Cas didn’t actually need to sleep.

 

Cas paused a moment before replying, then nodded. “I think it would be in your best interests, Dean. You will both be more rested,”

 

Dean nodded, giving Sam the briefest of looks. But Sam knew that look, having had much practice with it; it meant, _go with whatever I say_. Which of course, if what he thought was about to happen was going to happen, then of course he would.

 

“I was thinking… If you don’t have any place to be tonight… why don’t you just… hang? With me?” Dean stumbled out, lacking any finesse and grace. But the words were enough to make Cas smile shyly.

 

“Of course, Dean. I would enjoy that.”

 

“Yeah… I’m… kinda tired. You two don’t mind if I just crash in my own room tonight, right?” Sam said right on cue, stretching with fake tiredness and yawning.

 

“Are you unwell, Sam?” Cas asked in concern, and if Sam didn’t know any better was already reaching out to offer to heal him.

 

“M’fine, Cas. Thanks. Just tired. How ‘bout we get and find somewhere, huh?”

 

A short ride in the Impala and a stop for supplies later, Sam snagged up the two sets of keys from the motel reception and handed one to Dean with a look that said, _good luck_ , and _don’t mess this up_ , and _don’t give me details_.

 

The last thing Sam saw was Dean slinging a bag over his shoulder and holding open the motel room door for Cas.

 

**Sam**

 

If Sam didn’t know better, the very air around all of them had shifted into something calmer, and much more peaceful than any of them were entirely used to.

 

And yet everything was, as he predicted, almost exactly the same.

 

It had been a week since Dean and Cas had spent the night together in that motel room, and, as he’d requested himself, Dean hadn’t told Sam a single thing.

 

Sam scrunched his face up at that. Maybe he didn’t want _details_. But he did want to hear that everything was finally good between them at least. They owed him that much, didn’t they?

 

But not a word has been said.

 

Cas was around a lot more than usual though, that much is true. And he looked comfortable in a way he often hadn’t; gone was his constant need to stand on ceremony, and instead he was sitting down, taking off his jacket, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves.

 

Cas, Sam thought, smiling to himself, looked very much at home.

 

And Dean, Sam full on grinned, Dean was an entirely new person. Well, perhaps that was a slight exaggeration. But Dean was so obviously _happy_ , and suddenly almost always constantly _smiling_ , and if that wasn’t enough to tell Sam that _something_ at least had happened, then he didn’t know what was.

 

Maybe he should ask him, Sam thought to himself for the hundredth time, closing the lid on his laptop and letting it fall on to his bed, looking up at his room door in thought.

 

Maybe he would ask right now, he added, determinedly rising to his feet and swinging open the door.

 

Sam walked down the hallway and stopped outside Dean’s room, ear briefly to the door to try and check if Dean was in there. He cleared his throat awkwardly then knocked once, loud, waiting and failing to hear anything in return.

 

Sam turned on his heel, thinking maybe Dean would be in the garage, with his nose firmly under the bonnet of the Impala as though it was permanently fixed there.

 

Sam was all set on checking when he came to an abrupt halt, with the sound of laughter drifting over to him from the direction of the kitchen.

 

On sock-clad feet, Sam stalked up and peered in through the doorway, his breath catching and his face splitting into a smile at what he saw.

 

They were making sandwiches.

 

It wasn’t the most profound of things Sam had ever watched his brother and Cas do together, not by a long shot. But it was the way they move around each other that told Sam all he needed to know.

 

And then there was the way Dean leaned into Cas’ side as they mumble to each other, and how Cas turned, smiling, tilting his head up to be kissed.

 

And when Dean did just that, it took everything that Sam had in him to not yell, or cheer, or clap.

 

He watched as Dean pulled Cas effortlessly to him, and Cas had Dean pressed back against the counter in an instant.

 

Dean’s arms looped around Cas’ waist as though they have already done just that a thousand times, and Sam felt his smile splitting wider.

 

When he’d had his fill of watching, Sam cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence, then walked into the kitchen as though he hadn’t seen a thing.

 

Dean peered around Cas’ shoulder, dropping his hands to rest on Cas’ hips, and grinned at Sam.

 

“Sam. Cas was just gonna come get you. We made lunch,”

 

Cas dropped his head onto Dean’s shoulder for a second before stepping back, turning to Sam a little shyly, then quickly turning back to the counter to finish fixing the sandwiches. He brought them up to the kitchen table and gestured for Sam to sit, before pulling three beers from the fridge and setting those down as well.

 

Dean was clearing up behind them as this happened, sealing packets and throwing packaging into the trash, then he was joining them at the table and smiling.

 

“These look good,” Sam said, reaching for one of the sandwiches.

 

Dean was jumping back up and pulling a bag of chips from the cupboard before returning to his seat and lifting his own sandwich to his mouth with an appreciative grin on his face.

 

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, which gave Sam ample time to watch the way Cas and Dean kept shooting each other these little smiles and secret grins, and just seemed to gravitate towards one another.

 

Sam wanted to tell them it was cute, but feared the repercussions, and by repercussions he meant avoiding being on the receiving end of one of Dean’s _stop teasing me_ blows.

 

He’d take it though, for this, for what he was seeing.

 

Because Dean - and Cas, looked so very, very happy.

 

“So,” Sam said eventually, unable to keep quiet any more. He took a swig of his beer, then looked between the two of them expectantly. “So you two are…?”

 

“We _are_ ,” Dean told him easily, without taking his eyes off of Cas, who grinned back at Dean, then at Sam, and reached out to clink their beers together.


End file.
